


Too Good For Him

by Missy



Category: Army of Darkness (1992), Evil Dead (Movies), Evil Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet, Drama, F/M, Healing Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Magical Healing Cock, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con References, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle, Ash discovers there's one more war to be one - the one that's lain waste to Sheila's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Good For Him

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cotton candy_Bingo: Prompt: Ecstasy.

Six hours after the last Deadite melted into a pool of jittering bones, Ash retired to Sheila’s chamber in the tower room of Castle Kandar. He was unconscious in two seconds, then drifted through four hours of the most peaceful, dreamless sleep he’d known in two weeks.

It was past dawn when he awoke with a start, to a cold bed and the sound of a woman softly crying.

He pushed back the covers, leaping out of bed and following the sound toward a darkened corner of the room – one curtained off by a decorated screen painted with scenes from the crusades.

He rested his hand against John the Baptist’s face and whispered. “Sheila?”

She went still behind the curtain. “Leave me, Ash,” she requested. “I wish not for thee to see me this way.” Her barely-in-control voice made his heart ache. It wasn’t a shocker that Sheila was as freaked out as he had been, but the sound of her crying drew him still closer, forcing Ash to peek around the corner of the screen to glimpse her face.

The sight was a terrible one. Sheila crouched behind the screen over a small, shallow basin, rubbing a bit of cloth between her legs. He could see the amount of blood on her thighs and cringed. “Jesus,” he muttered. “What happened?”

Her eyes flared. “I wert attacked by an animal.”

He deserved that – deserved it but she didn’t have to rub it in. “Maybe if you didn’t let that jackass touch you…”

The washcloth collided with his face, and Ash backed away from Sheila sputtering. The cloth was dropped in the pile of clothing to be laundered later. “Allowed?! Varlet! Lickspittle!”

“Woah…that’s not cool.” Whatever meaning those words held, he recognized the anger in her tone and immediately backed off. “Where did he hurt you?” Ash couldn’t believe himself as the words tumbled from his mouth – wasn’t it all clearly etched?

Sheila whipped around, her eyes blazing, so brave in her nudity that she imposed even with her miniscule height. “Everywhere,” she declared. “He hurt me everywhere.”

“Show me what he did.” Ash repeated. She avoided him with her eyes, splashing the ground with droplets of water as she stalked toward the bed. Ash caught her, spun her around. “SHOW me,” he demanded.

That earned him a punch to the jaw that forced Ash to release her, step back, and Sheila stood firm, her fists clenched, her eyes hard. “He RAPED me.”

The words bloomed like a stain across the neurons of Ash’s brain. Rape. It was a vicious word, but the kind of word he’d never given a thought to, one that had never touched his life, until his sister came to him covered in blood. 

_attacked by an animal._

“Come here,” he demanded. Sheila glared at him, her hands fisted against her stomach. “Okay,” he said, striding toward the bed and plunking down beside her. “I’ll come to you.” 

Sheila turned toward him, her eyes insolent. Hadn’t she mourned this violation? He couldn’t see anything but fury in her eyes. Reason lay beyond him; he cupped her face in his good hand and ducked down, burying his face in her tangled red-brown hair.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered against the set of thyme.

She stiffened but said nothing in return. “’Tis not thy fault,” came out, after a time. “Many women of my station art prepared for such things to occur. My mother carried a dirk beneath her skirts for all her four and twenty years…”

“Jesus,” he replied, trying not to envision what was under Sheila’s mother’s skirt. “You shouldn’t have to be.” His lips nuzzled the tensile cords of her throat.

“What art thou about?” she wondered. 

He pulled back, running his left hand through her hair. “Let me make it up to you.”

She shook her head. “’Tis seven days too late for that,” she said. 

“Maybe, yeah,” he said. “But maybe there’s some kinda favor I can do ya now…” He winked obnoxiously to punctuate his meaning.

“Blowhard!” Sheila snapped. “Thou wishes only to give thyself a sweetmeat.”

Ash frowned, his jaw tightening. “Stop lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth. Say yes and I’ll rock your world and…” he tried to keep his features neutral, keep the sneaky want out of his tone. If this happened, it had to be a gift. “If you don’t want anything else…no matter what I want…I won’t do it.”

“Canst thou truly control thyself?” She didn’t trust him to save her. How could he blame her?

But Ash did, and his gaze narrowed. “I’m not like him.”

“As I can well note,” she replied flatly. “I fear no man,” she said flatly. “No mortal man,” she amended, at his incredulous look. The drying cloth fell away from her breasts.

Her hands reached across the expense of flesh for his.

*** 

Ash’s mind downshifted into a primal state when Sheila tilted her head for a kiss. Before he knew it, there he was holding her hand, kissing her with small, tentative nibbles and licks before slipping his tongue between her lips. He kept his fingers stroking the tips and sides of hers, until she got bolder.

This was fresh territory for Ash; all of the kisses he’d given her before tended to be aggressive battles; trying to be gentle, to just hold her hands while she kissed him, felt odd. A good kind of odd, but odd nonetheless. 

Ash kept at it, Slowly, her posture began to melt. He felt her hand leave his grip and run slowly, tentatively, up his forearm. 

He made a grumbling sound of approval before wrapping his arm around Sheila’s back, pushing her forward and up against his chest until he breasts. The sudden contact between her soft breasts and his firm chest made sparks dance up Ash’s spine. It didn’t take much effort to guide her to her back and move from her beestung lips to slide toward her ear. 

“See baby?” he whispered. “All I wanna do is make you feel nice.” Lipping her earlobe, he stroked his tongue against the tiny tag of flesh, planting a kiss behind her ear before trailing his mouth along her jaw.

“And art thou not serving thyself as well?” Her haughtiness hadn’t deserted her yet, and Ash grumbled into her neck.

“Not…yet.” He strung the kiss out, pecking her lips before moving on to her cheekbones, her nose, and eyelids. The last one was placed right between her eyes before he sat back with a sigh. 

Sheila had relaxed visibly, but that wasn’t good enough for Ash. He kissed her cheek, nuzzling her in a possessively animalistic way, trying to brand her with his teeth and tongue. His left hand stroked down her collarbone, brushing across her breast. The nipple firmed and plumped in response, though it didn’t stiffen up. 

He pecked her between the eyes again before speaking. “Do you want me to kiss your tits?” He’d never asked a woman that before – had just taken instead of wondering what his lover actually wanted. 

Sheila didn’t say anything – her eyes were squeezed tight. “Look at me,” he demanded. Ash couldn’t tell if she was suffering or flying until they opened. She cracked one brown eye open, and Ash got a brave nod. He tossed her a cocky grin. “Good.”

Permission thus granted, Ash slid down her body, kissing and nuzzling his way down her throat. Each shoulder got kissed, then the inside of each arm. He tickled the inside of her elbow with the tip of his tongue just to make Sheila laugh and tangle her fingers up in his wild brown hair. Ash shifted his kisses to her ribcage and inhaled the scent of Sheila – of sweat and fresh herb-laden soap; he laughed inwardly at his old assumptions that ‘primitive screwheads’ would smell unwashed. He buried his head between her breasts for a moment before kissing leftward, letting her guide him with gentle tugs toward the nipple.

The tip of his tongue flickered out, tiny swipes of fire against soft flesh. A little sigh came from Sheila, and Ash took it as a good sign – her nipple was pulled eagerly between his teeth and gently nibbled. 

“Milord,” she breathed, “I dist only give thee permission to…” she drifted away in mid-sentence as he released her breast.

“Uh?” He prayed to every God that had denied him she wouldn’t make him stop now, not when he could feel her legs shaking against his hip, feel the firmness of the brown nipple against his lip. With deliberate tenderness, he kissed it. 

“To…” she cleared her throat and tried to refocus her gaze. 

“Yeah?” Ash asked, nuzzling her breast. 

“Bastard,” she muttered under her breath, and offered herself to his mouth. 

Ash was less pleased about getting his way than in her acceptance of his desire. The nipple had lost some of its firmness while she had weighed her options, so he licked it hard before taking between his lips.

That involved a bit of maneuvering – his chin had to get out of the way, which meant angling his neck so her breast wasn’t mashed into his face. He achieved it, his tongue swirling about the nipple, driving it to a firm hardness without using his teeth. Then he drew upon it, sucking firmly, then gently, raising an eye to watch her expression.

Sheila couldn’t hold his gaze; she was too busy writhing, her toes curling against Ash’s calves. He thought he might give her another little nibble when her hands tugged his hair, lifting her other breast toward his mouth. Shifting sideways, Ash cupped his lover’s flesh in his hand, and then licked the tip of the opposing breast gently. 

Ash felt Sheila shift under his mouth, the tips of her fingers ghosting down his back like a rolling bank of fog, her breath quickening slightly. Grinning into her flesh, he let go, kissing his way southward.

“Can I?” Ash wondered. His hand lay just below her navel, his head on her hip. Sheila froze still, her chest rising and falling rapidly, nipples glistening in the torchlight. Ash didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as he waited for her permission.

Their eyes locked. 

Her thighs parted.

He gave her his fingers, licking them before teasing the fat swollen tip of her clit. Ash put his mouth to work, kissing up and down her thighs, lingering against her mons to inhale the scent of her. It was musky with the slightest edge of sweetness, and it made his mouth water.

Sheila had come to him wet, and his patient work on her clit had swollen her sex, made her dewy. Ash broke down, sliding down between her legs, sliding his tongue between her nether lips to tease her sweetly erect clit.

He heard a gasp and a soft cry, but Ash would not be deterred this time. He was obsessed with getting her off, consumed by the heat between them, proud of her toughness and wanted to reward her for her pain. 

Ash stared into her face, her steamy half-opened eyes, as he opened his mouth and fastened it over her lips, licking the firm bead of her clit and making her fall back, hips rolling provocatively against his touch. The scent, sight and sound of her made him throb and leap toward hardness.

The only thing Ash needed to do was keep it up, and keep it up he did, until her nails stung against the back of his neck. “Ash!” she warned.

 _Yeah,_ he mentally chanted, working his fingers in rhythm to the beat, kissing and then licking her swollen clit. “C’mon baby,” he muttered softly, increasing the speed of his fingers. “’Cmon…” 

“Oh,” she sang out, her hips churning. Out of absolutely nowhere she went deadly still, but Ash could taste the salty difference between normal and orgasmic arousal in her and sped his movements in a frenzy of lust. It paid off; her inner muscles quivered and started to clasp him rhythmically. Then with a little gasp, she arched her hips once, her mons mashing into his nose, as she shuddered and jerked her way toward orgasm. 

“Yeah,” he growled aloud, kissing her clit again and again, feeling her thighs go stiff against his years and causing her to moan softly. After she crested, he pulled away, pressing his palm over her trembling mons, caressing her knees and belly, until the orgasm ceased. Then he ducked his head between her legs and brought her off again and again, until Sheila’s thighs fell quaking to the mattress and she melted with a sob. 

The sight and sensation of her pleasure drove Ash beyond the limits of his endurance. Each hand grasped an ivory thigh and wrenched them quickly apart. His feelings boiled to life – raging like a hurricane in his mind. He wanted to caress every place the bastard had touched and wipe away every bad memory. He wanted to blot out the caress of his evil double, his kiss, his face, his name. One arm shot out to brace himself against the bed, while his left grabbed his throbbing cock and positioned it between her lips. He thought no force on earth could stop him from thrusting hard into the heat she offered until she grabbed him by his gauntlet and pulled.

Then he saw the stark fear in Sheila’s eyes and went still.

“Damn it,” he growled, reaching up to stroke her face. “It’s just me. Look.” He pointed to his face. “Same chin. Same scars.”

“Different eyes,” she observed. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “He hath the milk’d eyes of a demon. I saw them…and I knew that thou didst wish for thy own pleasure,” she declared, her legs still quivering against his flanks. 

“C’mon, baby,” Ash moaned, running the tip of his cock between her folds, gathering the wetness of her slit, bathing the oversensitive head of his penis in all of that welcome. “I ain’t made out of stone.”

“Thou rather feels like it,” replied Sheila. Her belly trembled and rolled under his own.

“Damn right. All for you, too. If you say yes,” he muttered against her temple. “Say yes, baby. Say you want me.” He didn’t know why he needed the words – why he couldn’t force himself to just take her. 

“Why doeth thou wish to touch me?” Sheila wondered.

Ash blew out a sarcastic laugh, his cock still slipping through wet, unfurled petals of her vagina. “Because you’re all woman and if I don’t I’ll blow my load all over your pretty belly.” He upper lip curled. “Whatt’re you bitching about? You wanted me to talk turkey.”

That pissed her off, turned her cleavage red. “Civilize thy tongue! I am a lady, sir, though I hath fists made for defense.” 

“I know. Your old lady teach you how to throw around a staff?” he was still sore from where she had struck him. 

“Nay. I am no warrior,” she declared bitterly. “If I were….”

“You’re plenty warrior enough for me,” Ash said. “And I’m the freakin’ promised one.” His forehead fell forwards and he rested against hers. “Yes or no?” His mind started working feverishly, thinking up ways he could jerk off without being seen.

Then he felt her lips caress his earlobe. “Poor Ashley,” she remarked softly and kissed his neck. “Roll oe’re.”

With a surprising amount of obedience, he did. Then he felt her soft hand on his cock and watched her scramble awkwardly into position. 

“Wait – won’t this hurt you?” the thought had risen unbidden out of the blue, and he rushed to express itself. 

“Whatever magic heal’d me healed all,” Sheila replied, struggling to properly place him.

“Woah,” he said, realizing he was about to be ridden, “Where the hell did you…” the words died on a guttural, sliding moan as Sheila found the proper spot

“Thy spoke of such a wish whence last we spoke…” she threw back her head. “Like this, in the firelight. And he didst not take me in such a fashion…”

Ash pressed his index finger to her bottom lip. “His name don’t belong in this room, doll. Don’t say it.” She licked the pad of his thumb and he groaned. “I ain’t gonna last.”

“I do not wish for thee to hold back,” she declared. Her rocking motions were thrilling but totally unschooled, and Ash let out a guttural moan of despair and rocked into her 

Desperate for more leverage, he rolled her underneath and took a series of wild strokes, watching her face for any fear or pain she might feel. The panic was fleeting, and against her ear he said, “it’s just me, baby,” he crooned against her forehead. A stolen glance between them revealed little more than the diamond-glint of her wetness on her pubic hair, an inch or two of his throbbing prick. “Look at us,” he muttered against the top of her head. “Look at us…”

Sheila thrust her mound blindly upward, rocking into his thrusts. “Help me…”

He reached between them, stroking her with the pad of his thumb. Her clit was firm and well-defined against his finger and Ash rubbed as swiftly as he could, his hips picking up the pace. He felt her hand clutch his ass, the other grabbing him by the back of his head to drag him into a kiss. 

Her cry was watery, and he felt the gush of her release around him, dripping down his shaft, vibrating around his cock. It was too much to resist. 

Ash followed her siren call into oblivion with a shout to God, spearing her to bed with a cry and a thrusting orgasm of his own.

Much later, he felt himself melting out of her, felt her labored breathing and her mouth splayed open against his neck. Satisfaction and pride flooded Ash’s brain as he rolled away.

“I don’t know…” he drew several deliberately deep breaths before speaking again, “I don’t know why I did that,” Ash confessed suddenly. He stared down at her tousled head and felt her curl up beside him.

“It matters not, milord,” she replied. “Ye pleased me.” Sheila was nearly asleep when he spoke again.

“Good. You’re welcome.”

Ash felt her snuggle against him and let out a melancholy sigh as he, too fell back to sleep. He’d miss her, but she was far too good for him. 

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Characters used in this work of fiction were derived by those created by Renaissance Pictures/Rosebud Releasing. It is not intended to infringe upon copyright for monetary gain.


End file.
